


For the Right Reasons

by TheGayShipper (Miss_Vanderwaal)



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Bulimia, F/F, Hannison friendship, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7126546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Vanderwaal/pseuds/TheGayShipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why don’t you try and think of something good Alison did to you? There has to be something, otherwise you wouldn’t be friends with her."</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Right Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that was summed up in Renegades - my, until now, one and only attempt of translating one of my multi-chapter fanfics from Portuguese to English. The summary is actually a quote from Emily to Hanna in it. 
> 
> Ps: Writing in first person is really not my thing - especially not in English - but I felt it wouldn't be true to the original story if I changed to third person. Okay, that's total trivia :P

_Saturday, november 1st, 2008_

 

   It was the morning after Halloween. I had just woken up from my latest nightmare. One of a ton, at least it’s what it felt like, all involving Alison and the prank that she had put us four through the night before.

   In that particular dream, though, the enemy had been real and she ended up being stabbed in the heart. I remembered seeing the blood pouring out of her chest through the keyhole of the door of the room we were locked in. I also remembered screaming and crying. Alison was mean sometimes but I would never want her to die.

   Beads of cold sweat were dripping from my forehead and my eyes were watery, but my chest was filled with relief. I was _so_ glad we hadn’t lost her!

   As I was walking down the stairs to get to the kitchen and pour me a glass of water, my mom blew me a goodbye kiss. She worked part time on Saturdays. I forced a smile and gave her back the gesture. My legs were still shaking a little.

   I splashed some of the water on my face before drinking the rest. Then, after putting the glass jug in its place, something in the fridge caught my attention; the rest of the brownies my mom had made for the kids who went trick or treat the night before. Yes. Chocolate would definitely lighten up my mood.

   I hastily removed the plastic wrap from the plate and sat it onto the counter. The first bite felt like heaven. I closed my eyes as I felt the sugary taste numbing my tongue. Chocolate brownies were actually the one thing my mom could bake, thanks to her mom. For a second I thought about grabbing the phone and calling grandma just to say thanks. _Maybe after a few more bites._ But those quickly turned into dozens and soon enough the last seven pieces of the chocolate treat were gone.

   I was still chewing when I heard the front door click open behind me. It couldn’t be my mom; the footsteps were moving too excitedly towards me and Ashley Marin never ran when she was in her pantsuit and work shoes.

   I froze when a pair of carefully manicured hands rested on the countertop.

\- Hey, Han, I just saw your mom grabbing coffee down at the brew. She said you were awake and I thought we could head to… – and then she froze as well.

   I had a bit of trouble swallowing the last bite of my brownie. It had sort of a bitter taste now, with Alison staring at me. I didn’t dare looking up at her, though. I was completely paralyzed and my cheeks were probably bright red. Shame was taking over me in such a way that I didn’t even ask myself what the hell was Alison DiLaurentis doing up and out at nine o’clock in the morning on a weekend.

\- It’s your grandmother’s recipe, isn’t it? – she collected a few crumbs off the plate in front of me with a fingertip and then subtly licked it. – They sure are great.

   I could almost hear the smirk in her voice.

\- Please, Ali – I begged her, not realizing immediately how faltering my voice was. – Not now.

   Alison grabbed a stool and sat next to me.

\- I won’t judge you – she cupped my left wrist softly.

   It was normally something Alison said before severely judging someone.

\- I won’t, Han, I promise – she insisted as if she was reading my mind (I actually had no doubt that _that_ was also on her list of super powers).

   My breathing was slowly getting back to normal. She hadn’t said “I promise” back when she found out about me and Mike, so I tentatively gazed at her with the corner of my left eye. She stroke my hair once and I allowed my eyes to close again at the soft touch.

\- You were really that hungry or you just felt like filling the empty space in your mouth? – Alison spoke as if she knew the feeling, the agony; but she couldn’t know. She couldn’t possibly understand.

   I lowered my head again, and before I knew it I was bursting into sobs.

\- Nevermind – she said as she kept playing with my hair. – I know the answer.

   She gave me a minute and then I finally sniffed, looking straight at her seemingly sweet features.

\- I think I need help, Ali – I confessed, timidly. – It’s all the time. When I’m nervous, when I’m angry, when I’m sad…

   Alison reached the napkin holder across the counter and grabbed a napkin, brushing it slightly over the corner of my bottom lip. I couldn’t quite read her; obviously, I could never really read her, but she seemed… worried.

\- I can help you – she pinned her eyes on mine and the statement felt like the most truthful thing she had ever said to me. – But you have to trust me, okay?

   Then, with both hands on my shoulders, she pulled me into a hug. It was probably meant to be quick, but I inevitably melted into her embrace. Those were rare moments, so I knew I had to enjoy every one of them.

\- You don’t have to do this alone – she whispered at my right ear.

   It was almost scary how sweet she sounded. It was like she knew the battle I was fighting, or the one I was going to fight, and she seemed to know as well that I wasn’t going to make it if I tried to fight it on my own.

   _Do what_ _?_ , I wanted to ask her, but she was already pulling me by one hand up the stairs, so I simply let her guide me, as I always did. When we got to the bathroom, she carefully handed me my toothbrush. With a serious expression on her face, she assumed I knew what I was supposed to do. I did know, subconsciously, so I flipped the toothbrush upside down after wiping a tear.

   Alison stood by me as I kneeled down in front of the toilet. She had a hair tie around her left wrist and used it to hold my hair in a loose ponytail. A couple of seconds later my stomach felt lighter _and_ heavier at the same time – a consequence of guilt, perhaps. Alison crouched and stroke my back.

\- One more time – she instructed, and there was a depth to her voice that I had never heard before; a maturity way beyond queen bee standards.

   I obeyed and instantly felt like my stomach was being scratched from inside. Suddenly my whole body ached. I wanted to cry but it seemed as if no strength was left in me. I glued my back to the closed door hoping I would get rid of all the dizziness. Alison grabbed some toilet paper and pressed it gently against my lips, then using the other side to wipe the tears under my eyes.

\- You’re okay – she said, again in a sweet voice. – I got you.

   I took the statement as an invitation to rest my head on her shoulder. For once I really thought she was there to comfort me.

\- Do you do it? – I asked after a while, but deep down I already knew the answer.

\- I did, sometimes.

   Her serene tone implied that she had outgrown that “phase”.

\- Don’t worry, sweetie – she slid the back of one hand over my cheek. – One day you’ll rise as The Fabulous Hanna Marin and this will all be worth it.

   It could've been just her trying to make me feel better, but I couldn’t help smiling. She sounded so certain while pronouncing the adjective before my name, it was like she was _allowing_ me to be fabulous alongside her, and there was simply no way to _not_ trust those words.


End file.
